


faithfully

by renegade_angel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Fairy Tale Curses, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Rapunzel Elements, Romance, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegade_angel/pseuds/renegade_angel
Summary: Dean can't stay and Castiel wants to leave. It should be simple, but it isn't.In which Dean is kind of Prince Charming, Cas is a little Rapunzel and a little Sleeping Beauty, and they say that the road ain't no place to start a family.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	faithfully

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything you recognize. Title from "Faithfully" by Journey.

_Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thud._

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean tugged at his sword, now wedged in a thick, thorny vine. After hours of chopping through the tangle, though, he wasn’t exactly at his best and it was stuck fast. He struggled with it for a bit longer before conceding temporary defeat. After all, magically made wood was bound to be tougher than usual.

He dropped to one knee, panting, and squinted ahead, trying to see how much farther he had to go. A glimmer of light in the distance made him perk up and, after a couple swallows of water, he was ready to push onward. He reached up again and carefully wiggled his sword out of the vine before carrying on with the never-ending hacking.

This was all Chuck’s fault, spouting that freakin’ fairytale prophecy bullshit at his parents about him needing to find a queen before he could take over for his dad, never mind how much John _really_ needed to retire. The kingship had taken its toll on him over the years and, especially after the latest assassination attempt, John was ready to be done. And maybe Dean didn’t think he was _quite_ ready to be king, but at least he could have one last adventure before he was made to settle down. Besides, he had always done his best to make his dad proud and that wasn’t going to stop now. Not even in the face of an enchanted overgrown thorn bush.

A little while later, he and Baby were finally through the thicket. He sheathed his sword and turned to check on his beloved steed, making doubly sure she hadn’t got any thorns stuck in her glossy black coat. It was only as he turned to mount up that he finally got a good look at the keep ahead.

It looked typical for this kind of thing: tall and imposing, dark grey stone covered in even darker ivy, spiky towers all over with one super big one in the middle. Undoubtedly, the princess was at the top of that thing, probably lying there in a coma waiting for True Love’s Kiss to wake her up. Dean doubted he was the guy for the job, but he might as well give it a shot. _And hey_ , he thought with a grin, _if I gotta gank something to get up there, so be it._

He nudged Baby into a walk towards the great big doors, keeping an eye out for any fire-breathing or acid-spitting guard creatures. All the stories he had heard about other quests told him he should expect some other obstacle on his way, though nothing seemed to be showing itself so far…

Still, there had to be something, so he notched an arrow and kept looking around, trusting Baby to find her way. There was an ornate fountain up ahead, but no tentacled monster in it like his cousin Christian had to face. Further along, he saw a gated courtyard, though there didn’t seem to be any giant, blood-sucking bats like Benny fought or a flock of harpies like the ones Victor defeated. Heck, even when he dismounted and left Baby to graze just outside the stables, there weren’t any hellhounds snapping at his heels like Garth had warned him about!

Through the doors was the gloomiest entry hall he’d ever seen, and he’d once been a guest of King Crowley’s. It was all rotting wooden furniture, moldy rugs, and cobwebs, every cliché in the book about cursed, abandoned castles.

 _Except_ , he squinted, _maybe not so abandoned after all_. There were clear streaks through the dust ahead, just like a wide walking trail. So, there was a guard of some kind here! Well, he was supposed to slay the beast before rescuing the damsel, right? At least it’d be easy to find.

He followed the trail out of the entry through an equally dim hallway, dining room, and ballroom, all with no sign of the monster. The only thing of note was where the path went: swerving in front of each painting in the hall, stopping behind every chair at the table, and whirling in circles around and around the ballroom. Besides that, the place was undisturbed. What was this thing doing, throwing parties every night for its beastly buddies?

Dean moved out of the ballroom, wondering when he was going to find this thing. Weren’t guard monsters supposed to be super protective? Shouldn’t it have shown itself by now? At this rate, Dean was sure the sheer boredom would kill him before any monster.

He flung open a couple of doors, giving up on subtlety entirely in favor of trying to draw as much attention as possible in hopes the damn creature would pop up. He had just enough time to take in the fact that the room past the doors was a library before he saw something flying towards him out of the corner of his eye. Instinct made him throw himself to the side and draw his sword, turning in the direction the flying flash of silver had come from.

Across the room was a man, about Dean’s height but slighter, with a shock of dark hair and glaring blue eyes. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and black pants, but there was a kind of intensity about his stance that made him seem larger than he was, that made Dean freeze in place.

Only for a second, though.

“What the hell, man?” Dean shouted. “What are you doing?”

The man’s eyes slid to the table next to him, where a couple of books lay open. He looked back at Dean, raising an eyebrow. Dean glared back.

“Okay, so it’s obvious what you’re doing right now, but I meant ‘what are you doing in this castle?’”

“I live here,” the man said, his deep voice surprising Dean. It sounded like the guy had rocks stuck in his throat.

“Sure,” Dean said, pushing away from the bookcase he had his back to. “You live here. So, does that make you the monster or the princess?”

“Prince, actually,” the man replied. “Castiel, of the kingdom of Heaven.” Then he – Castiel, what kind of name was that? – did a strange little bow with his right hand in a fist across his chest and his left hand holding his right elbow.

…The hell?

“Are you the princess’s brother?” Dean asked. Castiel just gave him this look, like he was surprised Dean could blink and breathe at the same time. “Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand, “don’t look at me like that. All I know is there’s this story goin’ round the outside world that there’s some princess in need of rescuing all cooped up here, so here I am.”

Castiel’s eyes went up and down Dean’s body, as if to verify his statement. To his embarrassment, Dean felt himself blush.

He cleared his throat. “So, where’s the princess?”

“There is no princess.”

“What?” Dean said, finally sheathing his sword since it seemed like Castiel had no intentions of attacking him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Castiel said, “there is no princess. No one lives here but me.”

“So,” Dean said, waving his hands a little, “there’s no princess in an enchanted sleep at the top of the tallest tower? Or cursed to be a hideous creature? Or otherwise in need of saving from a curse or dangerously ferocious guard beast?”

There went the eyebrow again, this time combined with crossed arms for a double whammy of condescension. “No, no princess here. Just me.”

“Oh,” Dean said.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“So, what’s your story?” Dean asked.

“Pardon?” Castiel returned.

“Well,” Dean said, moving to sit down at the table. “why are you here all alone? Why’s everything covered in dust? And what’s with the welcome wagon outside?”

Castiel sat in the chair by the books, frowning. “There is no ‘wagon’ outside,” he said, completely ignoring the rest of his questions.

Now it was Dean’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I was talking about the thorny thicket that seems to surround your castle,” he said, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Ah,” Castiel said, though his confused frown was joined by a furrowed brow that defied this signal of understanding.

Dean waited for him to expand on that, but no answer seemed forthcoming. “So?”

“So,” Castiel repeated, “it is dusty because I do not care to clean everything when I am the only one living here. Also, I am sure you noticed that not everything is covered in dust.”

“Man, when the cobwebs have spiders as big as my fist, I think that counts as everything,” Dean countered. He leaned forward. “And you’re avoiding my other questions. Why do you live here alone?”

The other man bent away from Dean. “I cannot say.”

“Can’t say or won’t say?”

Castiel opened his mouth, then a few seconds later closed it again.

“Okay, so can’t,” Dean said. “I thought you said there was no one cursed here?”

“I said there was no princess here,” Castiel replied. “I have learned over time to be precise with my words.”

“If you’re here alone, why would you need to be?” Dean asked.

Castiel was quiet for a moment, staring at Dean as if measuring his soul. He must have passed muster, because Castiel quietly said, “I have not always been alone.”

His whole body seemed to droop, curling in on itself in sadness. Dean felt a pang in his heart and knew that even though Castiel wasn’t the princess he had expected to find, he still wanted to help in whatever way he could. No one should have to be so lonely.

Dean sat up straight. “Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together once for emphasis and making the other man jump slightly, his eyes wide, “can you leave the castle or are you trapped here by the same spell that controls what you can say?” He figured laying out options was the best workaround for whatever curse held Castiel’s tongue.

“I can leave,” he said quickly, apparently already aware of the limits he was under.

“Well, let’s go then,” Dean said, standing up from his chair. “Is there anything you need help packing?”

Castiel’s wide eyes looked up at him, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there is no reason for you to stay here all alone if you’re able to leave,” Dean explained. “So, I’m inviting you to come with me to my home. I have to go back pretty soon so they don’t think I died on this quest, but you can come with me and we’ll set you up real nice so you can make your way back to your kingdom, you said it was called Heaven?” Dean confirmed.

“Yes,” Castiel said, still seeming bewildered. “But why–”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it, but there’ll be someone who knows how to get there. It shouldn’t be too bad getting out, I mean, I already hacked all the way through the wall of thorns out there, unless it still has some magic in it and grew back. Man, if it did that, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to leave, I don’t think my arms can handle that again today–”

“It should not have–”

“Great, then let’s just grab whatever you want to bring with and head out. We should both be able to fit on my horse – Baby’s a warhorse, and on the bigger side besides. It should be no problem. Unless you want to bring some really heavy stuff, in which case we’ll need to find some kind of cart and harness.”

“That should not be necessary, but–”

“Perfect! So, we can just–”

“ _Stop!_ ”

Dean shut up, surprised to hear such a forceful tone from the slightly smaller man. The intensity from earlier was back, emanating from the now-standing man and again giving him the impression that this was not a man to mess with. That reminded him that whatever Castiel threw earlier was still stuck in the library door and he flicked his eyes that way, only to see a strange silver short sword stuck at least two inches into the wood. His eyebrows raised, impressed, before turning his full attention back to the man in front of him.

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asked, his earlier confusion replaced by an irritated glare.

“Um, because you’re obviously cursed and helping you is the right thing to do?” Dean said, hoping he injected enough _well, duh_ in his tone that the easily confused man picked up on it.

Castiel stared at him some more, seemingly not knowing what to do with this answer, before looking down and to the side. He said nothing.

Dean was confused himself because he thought that was a pretty logical response. “You said you can leave, right?”

Castiel nodded.

“Do you want to leave?”

Castiel looked up again, but still only nodded.

Dean nodded in return. “Okay, then let’s leave,” he said. He went back through the doors, turning to make sure Castiel was following him. After another few seconds, he did, pausing to pull his sword out of the door with apparent ease. Satisfied he was coming, Dean gestured for Castiel to lead the way.

“Wait.”

He sighed, but gamely said, “What?”

“I do not know your name,” Castiel said.

 _Whoops_ , Dean thought, feeling embarrassment flush his cheeks. “I'm Dean, of Winchester,” he said, saluting Castiel in the manner of his own people: with his right fingers on his temple, palm out, and his left hand on the pommel of his sword.

Castiel’s face relaxed into a smile. Dean couldn't help but suck in a quick breath, startled at the change the small expression made in the other man’s demeanor.

“Hello, Dean.”

* * *

It didn't take long for Castiel to pack a bag and soon they were off. It was early afternoon when they left the castle – Dean having started through the thicket in the cool early morning – and they made good time back through the thankfully still clear path. They had decided to wait to ride until they were through, to make sure Baby wouldn’t get stuck by any thorns. That had actually been Castiel’s idea, which endeared him to Dean even more. Anyone who thought to care for Baby pretty much instantly earned his approval.

But that didn’t stop the sheer awkwardness. They had been walking in silence for some time and Dean was starting to feel antsy. Being quiet had never been his strong suit – that was always Sammy’s thing, whereas Dean was more active. And louder.

Dean turned his head to peek at Castiel walking behind Baby. His head was twisted to the right, squinting through the thorny tangle. He looked confused as he swiveled his head the other way, as if he had never seen the thicket before.

They gave Baby breaks throughout the afternoon and early evening. Along the way, they started talking a little, mostly about simple things like their hobbies (Castiel liked to read, where Dean preferred to hunt) and food preferences (Dean promised to introduce Castiel to his home’s most well-known dessert: pie). Eventually, the subject came around to families.

“Wait, you have _five_ older brothers?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, “Michael was the eldest, followed by Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel, Balthazar, then me.”

“Wow,” Dean said. “Speaking as an older brother, they must have made your life Hell.”

“It was sometimes unpleasant,” Castiel agreed. “Lucifer was always the worst, as he would trick me into getting in trouble but always had an alibi for himself when our parents asked.”

“What kind of things would he get you to do?”

“Once, he purposefully made me believe that he could fly and convinced me to try it. I fell three stories and broke my left arm and collar bone.” He shrugged, as if serious injury due to his brother wasn't a big deal.

“Whoa, and he didn't get in trouble for that?” Dean asked, absolutely appalled.

Castiel eyeballed him as if _he_ was the strange one for suggesting that. “Why would he? It was my decision, my choice to believe him and test it without asking anyone else. Our father is a great believer in free will and dealing with the consequences that come from our decisions.”

“Well, if I had done something like that to Sammy, you can bet I would have gotten a beating to match what injuries he had,” Dean said.

“Sammy is your brother?” Castiel asked, looking curious.

“Yeah, he’s younger than me by four years,” Dean said. “And sure, I rag on him sometimes, tease him and pull pranks, but nothing that would hurt him. Big brothers are supposed to take care of their little brothers.”

Castiel hummed tunelessly, considering this. “I suppose Gabriel and Balthazar are the closest of my brothers to what you are describing. Though they each ‘ragged on me’ at times, they also were the ones to answer my questions, even when I had already been bothering them for hours,” Castiel explained with a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, good to know they weren't all bad,” Dean said, ignoring the flip in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in hours. He thought for another moment. “They must miss you,” he murmured.

“Yes, I suppose they must,” Castiel replied, voice wistful and gaze far-off.

They kept walking in companionable silence, Dean absentmindedly patting Baby’s nose as they continued. After a few minutes, Dean suggested stopping for a quick snack.

“I have some traveling bread and water, and I can hunt for some meat tonight when we make camp,” Dean said. Castiel agreed that made sense and they settled in the grass, which Baby bent her head to eat.

As they ate, Dean studied Castiel. The man looked so relaxed out here: his eyes closed, his head tilted back to catch the sun. A gentle breeze came, ruffling their hair and making him smile gently. A bee buzzed nearby, and he turned his head toward the sound, following its progress from flower to flower with the tilt of his head. He was clearly at peace.

He had so many questions about this man and it seemed he wouldn't be getting answers anytime soon. If he loved the outdoors so much, why was his skin so pale? Why had he never left when he was perfectly able to? What were the limits of this curse? What couldn't he talk about? Why had his family left him to this fate? If Gabriel and Balthazar were the brothers who cared for him, then where were they? Why the heck was he cursed in the first place?

They finished their food quickly and mounted Baby with Dean in front and Cas behind him. Dean explained it would take until about midday tomorrow for them to get to his family’s home. He thought he saw a brief flash of disappointment on Cas’s face when he said that, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. _More questions._

Meanwhile, Dean had to distract himself from the feeling of the man behind him. Sitting like this, touching from shoulders to thighs, he could feel the heat radiating from Cas and his own skin flushed in response. He only hoped Cas took the red of his neck for sunburn. Desperate for something else to focus on, Dean asked Cas what Heaven was like.

“What do you want to know?” Cas asked in return.

“I don't know, man, just what makes it unique, makes it different from other kingdoms. You probably traveled a bit with your family before you came here, right? What makes Heaven different from those places?” Dean asked.

Cas took a minute to gather his thoughts, as he seemed to do a lot. “Well,” he began, “the most obvious thing I can think of was the buildings. Much of the city was white marble with gold and bronze accents woven throughout.”

“Wow, that certainly sounds unique,” Dean said. “A little intimidating, though. Like a temple you couldn't get dirty.”

“Most of the lines were done in curves, to try and minimize that, I think,” Cas explained. “Though it did not really work, according to the few diplomats’ children I remember from childhood. They always seemed very frightened to me.”

Dean snorted. “Wish I had visited when we were kids then. I’d have run around and gotten dirty and played all over with you. Probably would’ve embarrassed my parents, though,” he conceded.

“You would not have wanted to play with me,” Cas said confidently.

“And why not?”

“I was a strange child,” Cas said, with the air of confiding a great secret.

Dean burst out laughing. “Cas, I gotta tell ya, you ain't exactly normal now,” he said, struggling to get his breath back. The other man didn't reply, remaining almost rigid against Dean’s back.

 _Shit_ , Dean swore in his head. “I mean, uh, not that there’s anything wrong with you now, I mean you seem pretty cool to me, and my friend Charlie always tells me the best people are the weird ones, and I think I'm pretty weird sometimes, not that I think you’re weird, you're just a little – I'm just going to shut up now,” he concluded lamely.

Cas still seemed a little stiff, though he had definitely relaxed during Dean’s rambling. “It is alright, Dean,” he finally said, “I was just surprised when you gave me a nickname.”

Dean racked his brain for a second, realizing that yeah, he _had_ given him a nickname at some point. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I tend to do that with my friends. Drives some of ‘em nuts,” he admitted.

“It is alright,” Cas repeated. “It is actually quite…pleasant.”

“Dude, please tell me you've had a nickname before, because, no offense, but ‘Castiel’s a mouthful.”

“Balthazar called me ‘Cassie’ growing up, though I was never fond of it,” Cas offered.

“If it bugs you, I can stop,” Dean said.

“No, I like it,” Cas said, relaxing further against Dean’s back. “Heaven was very formal most of the time, which is partially why I never corrected Balthazar. It was nice to bend that unspoken rule.”

“Why Cas, you little rebel, you,” Dean exclaimed, reaching down to poke Cas on the knee. There was a pause before he received a quick poke in the middle of his shoulder blades in retaliation, making him grin.

_Let’s feed that rebel flame, shall we?_

* * *

As the day faded to dusk, he started looking around for a spot to camp for the night. He thought that little grove he’d slept in last night was close by… _ah ha!_ He could just see a few of those oddly branched, almost-white barked trees that he remembered ringing the grove. Dean urged Baby on, breaking into a jog himself to encourage her.

“Dean?” Cas asked, gamely picking up his own pace.

“There’s a great spot to set up camp just up ahead; I slept there last night,” Dean explained. “And I’m starved, so let’s get this going!”

Cas didn’t respond, so Dean looked over and saw him squinting up at the orange and pink sky. His face relaxed, his eyes falling closed, and he sighed softly. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean. Dean smiled at him, and though Cas gave a small smile back, Dean could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.

They moved together to make camp: Dean unpacking his supplies from Baby’s saddle and Cas collecting fallen branches from the edges of the clearing. He offered Cas his flint and pocketknife, then turned back to spreading out the bedroll. He pulled out some supplies for traps and more bread, then walked over to Cas.

“Here.” He offered the bread. “You stay here and rest. I’ll be back soon after I set some traps. Hopefully, we’ll have rabbit for dinner tonight.”

Cas took the snack and nodded. He quirked a little smile at Dean, all shades of orange in the sunset and small flickering flames. Dean jerked a nod back, then walked away swiftly.

He made quick work of putting the traps together, forcing himself to focus on finding the best spots before he lost the light. By the time he strolled back into the clearing, it was almost full dark, most of the light coming from the now roaring fire. Cas sat close to it, staring right at it as he ate something.

Dean shuffled some leaves as he walked closer, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t look up, though, so Dean was cautious as he sat next to Cas. He needn’t have worried though, as Cas simply turned toward him and blinked before sticking out his hand in offering. It was full of wild carrots.

“I thought I should contribute to our dinner somehow,” he said. Dean reached out and took a few, promising himself to never tell Sam how easily this man had gotten him to eat vegetables. He started eating, and silence descended again.

It was odd once again, but in a different way than their earlier silences. In fact, this silence was odd because it wasn’t odd. Dean already felt comfortable with Cas even though he didn’t know much about him. The unknown didn’t even bother him much – he had this feeling that Cas would fill in the blanks in time. No, it wasn’t just a feeling: it was a knowing.

For now, he was perfectly content to just wait.

…Well, he _had_ been perfectly content, until Cas started shifting constantly.

“Buddy, what’s up? Sitting on a pea or something?”

Cas stopped moving to turn and furrow his brow at Dean. “Why would a small seed cause me discomfort?”

“No, man, it’s a story about a princess and – never mind,” Dean stopped, realizing quickly that explaining would probably be futile. “What’s bothering you?”

Cas opened his mouth, paused, then closed it. His lips opened, paused, and closed again. When it looked like he would do it a third time, Dean snapped. “Man, just tell me.”

Cas sighed. “I was simply trying to figure out how to phrase it. It is not easy to explain.”

Dean just opened his arms, palms facing out: _try me_.

“First, I want to thank you for bringing me with you.” Cas held up a hand when Dean moved to speak. “Yes, I know that you said it was the right thing to do but believe me when I say that I am sure not everyone would have done what you did. So, thank you.”

“Welcome,” Dean said.

“Second, I want to assure you that coming with you to Winchester sounds wonderful. I think I would like to meet Sammy and Charlie and everyone else you have spoken of. Please do not think that you have done anything wrong.”

“What’re you talking about? Cas, you’re not making any sense.”

“I am trying to say that I want to go with you. Do not blame yourself for what happens next.”

“Why? What’s going to happen next?” Dean asked, fighting the urge to look around for some danger to explain why Cas had gone so tense.

“Everything will be alright, Dean. Just shut your eyes,” Cas said, sorrow filling his own as he stared at Dean.

“But why? What do you not want me to see?”

“That is not it, Dean. You must shut your eyes,” he said, panic replacing the somber tone in his voice. “Shut your eyes, Dean! Now!”

Dean slammed his eyes shut. Beyond his eyelids, he saw a brilliant flash of light, so bright it was like staring into the sun. He kept them closed for another few seconds, waiting to make sure whatever it was was done.

“Cas, can I open my eyes now?”

He didn’t reply.

“Cas?” Dean repeated. “Cas?!”

He opened his eyes.

Cas was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> renegade-angel.tumblr.com/


End file.
